


Just Another Guardsman

by Captain_Bezaliel



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k, wargaming - Fandom
Genre: Action, Battle, F/M, Fantasy, Imperial Guard, Science Fiction, Warhammer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Bezaliel/pseuds/Captain_Bezaliel
Summary: After his long years of service, Trooper Trabal Kahl is sent on a mission that only he will remember.
Kudos: 1





	Just Another Guardsman

Trooper Kahl was just another Guardsman with only some peculiar background features. Sold to the military as a child, he grew up under the Imperial Child Warfare Regime. He was able to fire a gun at age 6 and could kill a man in sixteen different ways by age 9. Despite his past, however, he was not prepared for the mission he was given.

The Sergeant had explained that they’d be doing some training ops on an outback planet near the Eastern Fringe.  
“Desert”, grunted the Sarge, “so pack light and drink up. Apparently top brass are reviewing our Regiment, got Commissars and all that. What I’m sayin’ is don’t fuck it up, unless you want to be on the bad end of a bolt pistol. The Emperor protects”.

The briefing room echoed his final sentence in its usual, gritty chorus. Kahl didn’t see the reason for training ops; they were already at war with most of the galaxy, why not just drop them in an active warzone? Nonetheless, when the time came, he marched in tandem into the Atmo-Transports, whisking them off to the Navy ships in orbit. 

Out the window, something caught Kahl’s eye. Much larger transports were being used. Large enough for Macharius-Class tanks or, impossibly, a fabled Baneblade. He dismissed this as a mere trick of perspective and assumed that it would be for some of the heavy weapon specialist squads.

Another briefing occured on the Naval ship, mid-way through warp travel, however this time from the Commissar reviewing the regiment. He was a stout man, not particularly tall, but his aura was that of true, ruthless discipline. To get on his bad side would be the last side you’d ever see. He was flanked by two younger looking men both wearing the Commissar uniform.

“My name is Commissar Cabal and beside me are Junior Commissars Karl and Hanker”, he roared at the still crowd, “I will be reviewing you over this training operation on the planet of Kahras. This is a desert warfare operation with little to no cover, meaning once we get you boys on ground you’ll be on the move constantly.” 

Cabal gestured to one of the men and they moved instantly, almost before Cabal had started moving. He continued, “Being shown to you now is your training operation Lasrifle. You will be given them at the LZ on Kahras. This is to ensure safety and no accidental casualties when firing against your opponents; your brothers the 241st Cadian Shock Troops.”

This stirred the crowd a bit. No one had been told that it was a joint training. Kahl looked around and saw that even the Sarge was dumbfounded, and he never showed much emotion apart from grit. This made him wonder what the larger transports he had noticed were actually for. Cabal barked for silence and began to end his briefing, “We will arrive in Kahras space in 5 hours. Get some rest. The Emperor protects!” With that, he turned on his heels and goose-stepped the two Juniors out of the briefing hall.

They weren’t joking about Kahras being “desert”. It looked more like it had come face to face with a terrible fate involving a battle, inquisition-deemed heresy and a big red button. Maps of the training area were given out to corresponding sergeants to show to their squads.

“We’re order’d to move out within the hour!” snarled Kahl’s sergeant. “They’ve got to be bloody jokin’! The damn cap point is over 20 clicks away! With all this damn gear that’ll be almost 5 hours of marching!” Most of Kahl’s squad groaned at the thought, sergeant included.

“Why aren’t we taking a Valk?!” piped up a voice from the squad. The Sergeant shrugged, grunted in disappointment and gave the order to move out.

They’d been walking for just over 4 hours when they heard something scream. It was high pitched and ear-piercing. Most men involuntarily dropped to their knees and screamed a reply, merely to be drowned out by the excruciating noise. After it stopped the men regrouped and questions began to flow around what had just happened. The Sergeant barked for everyone to be quiet and keep moving; he was met with grumbling compliance.

It was only 10 minutes later the same scream occured; same pitch, same noise but a worse reaction. This time everyone was on the ground and a few began to take off their helmets and tear out the hairs on their head. Kahl watched as the companions he’d trained with broke down into crying heaps, blood dripping from their noses and ears. He even felt his own brain rattle inside his skull as the high pitched sound reverberated ever more painfully. Gunshots could be heard from the surrounding squads; some men had decided that death was a better alternative than bearing the pain any longer.

The screaming stopped but its aftereffects continued. Men stood and vomited where they could, some couldn’t stand and began choking on their own vomit whilst others hurried to save them. Kahl stood surveying his own squad, and the few men left from other units. He could see how some men were just lying dead on the floor, pools of blood beginning to seep out of them. He looked over to Sarge, hoping for some comforting or inspiring words - but all he saw was a broken man, sitting, blank eyed, with a wet patch around his crotch.

“What the fuck is this training op?!” screamed one of the men at Sarge. He was met with no answer, just a man, silent and ashamed. Others began demanding answers as well, yet over all the shouting no one felt the tremors underneath them. 

Suddenly a sharp talon erupted from the ground and impaled one of the troopers, killing him instantly. Before anyone could react, more unknown, terrifying spikes came bursting through the desert floor. Screams rose up from the small groups of other squads as unsuspecting Guardsmen met with the same fate. Attached to these deadly scythes came the rest of the terrible beast, unlike any xeno that the troops, or even the Sarge for that matter, had ever seen.

It towered over Kahl by a good half a metre and was covered in sand and dark crimson blood. The creature's teeth were as jagged, deadly and bloody as the two talons that it had on its back arms. Its body, festooned with broken human skulls, was covered in an armoured shell, thicker than the Guardsman’s armour for sure. The stench of death lingered in the troop's noses. In the same second as this creature emerged, the Sarge was barking orders to retreat one click, but he was quickly silenced by the beast’s sharp tail.

Obeying his dead officer’s last order, Kahl rushed back the way they had come, firing pot shots at the creature, not caring if he was hitting his comrades or not. His weapon was firing live las-rounds. Someone knew they were meant to walk into whatever that was. Someone knew that they would make no difference. These thoughts kept on rushing back and forth through Kahl’s head, making him angrier and angrier as he ran. He looked up and realised he was coming up to a sand dune that he would get a better shot from. 

He looked around at the other running soldiers and tried to rally them with a roar. However, Kahl found himself alone on the dune looking over the bloodbath before him, troops scattering in all directions. There wasn’t just one of these deadly creatures. No, not one, not twenty, not even fifty. He could see that these creatures would overwhelm any force thrown at them merely by sheer numbers. Dumb struck and frozen, he dropped his weapon and watched as the beasts tore and ate troops in the desert; dead or alive. Kahl felt more tremors below him and began his sprint again, not daring to look behind him nor pick up his weapon, knowing it would be useless.

Impossibly, he escaped the grasp of these damned creatures. He collapsed face first into the sand and realised that now would be a good time to die. Kahl waited, calmly, to be held by the Emperor’s gracious hand. 

He awoke in Commissar Cabal’s office, dazed and confused by his apparent survival. Cabal was looking down at some paperwork, as if not paying attention to the lowly guardsman.

“Ah so you’re finally awake.” Cabal spoke softly, implying that he had no knowledge of the horrors which had taken place, “I’m afraid you are one of the few survivors left of your regiment. In fact, you’re the last one left.” He gestured over to a closed door behind him as if hinting to something sinister. Cabal looked up from his paperwork and stared right into Kahl’s eyes. “You weren’t our first attempt at securing the zone you know. You’re actually the fifth. Five regiments wiped out entirely by these ‘Tyranids’. I doubt that the last two regiments were even real attempts to capture the zone, but instead ploys to get the attention of the Astartes."

Kahl looked frightened whilst the Commissar spoke. Cabal smirked as he recognized his expression. “Lucky for you Guardsman”, he checked his paperwork again, “Trabal Kahl, you aren’t going to die today. In fact your loyalty to the Imperium rewards you with a prolonged death. You will be transferred into a new regiment as Corporal and...” Cabal looked Kahl straight in the eye with a deadly expression, “...you will never speak about this “training operation” to anyone - or you can be with your comrades in there.” He gestured towards the closed door again, not breaking eye contact with Kahl.

Kahl nodded in exasperation, eager to leave. Cabal dismissed him with a wave of his hand whilst Kahl was already almost out of his seat. However these events left him with one last shock. As he opened the door to leave the office, he was met with a wall of bright blue metallic armour standing in front of him. His heavy breath misted the metallic wall’s rough surface and looking up he was face to face with an Adeptus Astartes. The Marine was a good two foot taller than he was and exuded a dangerous quality that Kahl had never felt before. The Marine stepped aside and allowed the Guardsman to pass him. 

“Kahl!”, shouted Cabal from his office. He stopped and waited for the Commissar to finish; “If I was you Kahl, I would’ve died in the sand as just another Guardsman!”


End file.
